


Bake It or Leave It

by Celyan



Series: Works for 007 Fest 2020 [23]
Category: James Bond (Craig movies)
Genre: Baked Goods, Established Relationship, F/F, Friendship, Q Branch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-27
Updated: 2020-07-27
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:33:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25548277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Celyan/pseuds/Celyan
Summary: Wherein Q and Moneypenny are friends in baking.
Relationships: Eve Moneypenny/R, James Bond/Q
Series: Works for 007 Fest 2020 [23]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1813132
Comments: 2
Kudos: 25





	Bake It or Leave It

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Trope prompt table’s prompt ‘Moneypenny friendship’ and for the following 2017 fest anon prompt: Neither Q nor Moneypenny can cook and yet they compete over who can bake better and fancier biscuits/shortbread/pastries. Everyone is too afraid of them to refuse being a taste tester.
> 
> Thanks to SandyWormbook for the beta.

R loves both Q and Eve, she really does. Q’s an awesome boss and an even better friend, and Eve is one of the only people who knows the truth about her and doesn’t think less of her because of it—as far as friends-turned-into-secret-girlfriends go, she really couldn't do better than her. (It’s a work in progress. Give it some more time, and she’ll be willing to let go of the secrecy; until then, she loves the thrill of hiding in plain sight almost as much as she loves Eve.) 

But sometimes, she honestly wishes that they would accept the reality and stop trying to bake altogether, as neither of them clearly is any good at it. 

Well, perhaps the fact that no one dares to mention it to them is a part of the problem. They just eat whatever they’re given, and nod, and mumble something affirmative when asked if they like it, and then they flee. Not very subtly, either, and sometimes R wants to facepalm so hard when she witnesses it (which is probably why she tends to make herself scarce whenever she sees any baked goods in the vicinity) that she has to turn away and cite a sudden headache if anyone asks her why she’s grimacing so. But well, they’re Q Branchers and not field agents for a reason. 

Also the techies are in awe of Q, and not so secretly quite a bit intimidated by him. Never mind that Q is as young or even younger than several of them. 

“It’s the way he looks at you,” Sarah had confided in her once, when Q’d been holed up in his office and most of the others on the day shift had already left, creating a lull of activity in the generally lively Q Branch. “It’s like he can see straight into your soul and know exactly what you’ve done, and he’s silently judging you. But in a way that’s never quite as obvious that he’d mention it out loud. It’s just that he _could_. If he wanted to.” 

R had stared into her wide, unblinking eyes and almost left it at that. Almost. “Yet you still accept whatever it is that he’s baked and tell him that it’s good?” she’d felt compelled to point out. “In other words, you _lie_ to him.” 

Sarah had bit her lower lip and shrugged, appearing slightly troubled but mostly resigned. “Yes. But I don’t look him in the eye when I do that.”

R had snorted at that, but well, it was a fair point. Fair-ish. Maybe. And it wasn’t like there was an HR-sanctioned course on how to politely request your boss to stop making you eat the baked goods they bake, now was there? So Sarah was probably dealing with it the best way she could think of. 

R still thinks that there are better ways, mind. But the general atmosphere in Q Branch is very good, and no one has any complaints to give to HR—she’d asked more than once, and offered to act as the middlewoman so that anyone who had anything on their mind might preserve their anonymity—so she’s elected to keep her silence and observe. 

For now, anyway.

R has also personally seen and heard no fewer than four other double-oh agents approach Bond and ask for him to “just have a little talk with your lover for us, would you?” with little to no success. Bond always looks perfectly amused by such requests, and his answer is invariably something along the lines of, “You’re a double-oh, don’t tell me you’re afraid of the Quartermaster?” which, yes, R can see the point of.

She’s sure that Bond has his ways of distracting Q at home whenever Q’s finished baking and offers him a taste, too. Many of those are presumably physical, and definitely nothing R wishes to think about any deeper.

She may or may not use similar means to distract Eve when needed. At least if her excuse of not feeling like having any sugary treats fails.

She also refuses to say who she thinks is better at baking whichever pastries Q and Eve have chosen to bake at the time, using her friendships with them as her reason to remain impartial. Bond is likely to employ the same technique.

As for Eve and her fellow Q Branchers, she’s not physically there every day, but she does visit quite often on the account of her friendships with both Q and R herself. R enjoys those visits, even when they act perfectly professionally and only touch each other as much as friends would, but she can tell that most of her coworkers find Eve quite scary. 

Freddie even said as much when he asked if R could perhaps say something to her just a few days ago, what with them being friends and all. R’d replied that she was perfectly content to keep her distance from it all, but now as she’s watching her coworkers trying and failing to evade Eve and her plate of matcha shortbread — are they even _supposed_ to be that colour? — she wonders if she should do something after all. Sprinkle small hints into their conversations, perhaps? 

She’d rather not outright say it, as she doesn’t want to make her girlfriend feel bad. She’d said as much to the others before, too, except that she’d obviously used the word friend instead. 

R looks at Eve, who is currently offering her biscuits to the newly arrived Tanner. The way he looks like a deer in headlights, as he’d obviously not expected to be ambushed by a cheerful Eve Moneypenny brandishing a plateful of shortbread like a weapon, makes R hide a wince behind her hand and seriously reconsider breaking her silence. 

When Tanner makes eye contact with her, clearly pleading, that’s when she decides that she’ll do it tonight, when she has plans to spend a cosy night of Netflix and takeaway with Eve. 

*

Eve arrives at her door promptly at 7 pm, and R opens the door to see her holding a bottle of wine and takeaway bag. She welcomes her in and takes the food from her, and happily kisses Eve back once she’s finished shedding her jacket and scarf and is taking advantage of her now empty hands by pulling R to her. 

Eventually, they migrate to the sofa, where R has set the coffee table for dinner. She’s also queued up the episodes of the show they’re in the middle of watching, which are only a click away from starting. In other words, everything is ready for a nice night in.

They start by sitting next to one another but not yet fully cuddling (for ease of eating, as R prefers not to clean any more spilled food — or worse, wine — from her sofa, thank you) and R presses play on her TV. She enjoys the food and the closeness to her girlfriend, and everything goes just swimmingly.

That is, until they’ve finished their dinner and Eve reaches for her bag, pulling out a small Tupperware container. R has a bad feeling about it, which turns out to be right when Eve opens the container and reveals a batch of her matcha shortbread, cheerily telling her that she’d brought them for dessert. 

R takes a deep breath and means to finally just say it. 

She really, really does.

But then she glances at Eve who looks so earnest and bright, and she just _can’t._

Screw it, she thinks as he picks up a shortbread (the smallest one that she can find, because while she’s not inconsiderate enough to say no to her well-meaning girlfriend she’s not stupid, either) and brings it to her lips.

Everyone at Six is an adult, they can damn well either finally open their mouths or deal with the consequences of their actions themselves, it’s hardly her responsibility. 

(She still generously tops up her wine glass so that she can wash away the taste of the shortbread, before cuddling back up against Eve and placing a gentle kiss against her cheek.) 


End file.
